


Scars Left Behind, Love Up Ahead

by CuddlyHawk



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Appendicitis, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Whump (Good Omens), Gen, Hurt Crowley, Sick Crowley (Good Omens), Vomiting, emergency surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-23 15:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23146747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddlyHawk/pseuds/CuddlyHawk
Summary: Crowley gets appendicitis but has no idea what it is and waits too long to get it checked. But maybe Crowley isn't as alone in this world as he thinks, and maybe there are people out there who really love him and will help him get through anything.(Basically, I saw David Tennant's scar and decided to write a fic for Crowley about it)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 160





	Scars Left Behind, Love Up Ahead

**Author's Note:**

> Well y'know what? I'm weak. I'm pretty sure we've all seen David Tennant's scar, and someone mentioned that it's an appendicitis scar, and I was immediately struck with inspiration, so take this. Take this far away from me because I'm weak for appendicitis fics and this is my shame.

Just in case you haven't seen David Tennant's lovely little dimple scar, be blessed (pic from Fright Night):

Alright, let's get this over with.

* * *

2008 AD

It started as a stomach ache. Crowley dismissed it as a corporation glitch, and miracled the pain away. A few hours later, it was back with a vengeance. He growled and miracled it away again and continued with his day. He didn't have time for his corporation to behave strangely; he had plans today. Not only did he have a check-in with Hell, but he was trying to finalize the lease for his new flat in Mayfair. The legality for things took so much longer nowadays. He decided he would stay in the apartment while they were finalizing it though, and just miracle everyone to think he belonged until he officially did.

With his stomach feeling better, he made the descent down to Hell. He was greeted with the shrieks of the deplorable and the damned, but he passed them and continued to the main offices.

He was greeted by Beelzebub themself. "What do you want?" They droned boredly, barely even sparing Crowley a glance.

"Just to turn in my report, lord Beelzebub," Crowley said with a flourish and a small, slightly condescending bow. Beelzebub rolled their eyes.

"Proceed."

"Well there isn't much to report. Just the occasional mischief interspersed with demonic miracles to ensure souls for our master. My best lately is modifying buses ever so slightly so there's barely enough room for everyone. They fill up more quickly and everyone is much closer together. By pissing each other off, the humans will automatically flock to our master."

Beelzebub didn't look impressed.

Crowley expected it and waited to see if they had anything else to say, though he wasn't optimistic. Everyone in Hell was just so far behind the times. They didn't understand what was necessary to obtain souls nowadays.

When it was clear that this was all he was getting, he finished with another little bow and went to leave, when the ache came back as he tried to straighten up. He gasped and immediately bit his tongue. Show weakness in Hell, and they torture you with it for decades. He had to get out immediately.

"Yes well, this was exciting," he said as he slunk for the door. He just had to wait until he was out of Hell. Then he could miracle it away again. Demons could sense miracles and magick being performed, sure, but he could always come up with a lie if he was topside. Right in front of his superior was another story.

Beelzebub watched him with a raised eyebrow. "And where do you think you're going in zzzzuch a hurry?"

"Oh, you know, to go forment more demonic influence. You know what hey say! Evil never rests!" Crowley felt sweat begin to appear on his face from the pain, and quickly slipped away before Beelzebub could notice.

Once he was topside, he slumped into the nearest bus, trusting it to take him home. He dug his fingers into the plastic of the seat ahead of him, trying to brace himself against the ache. The pain grew sharper and Crowley pressed his other hand to his stomach, trying to will the pain away, but the intensity of it made it nearly impossible to focus long enough for it to work. He hissed and held tighter to the seat in front of him, trying not to draw attention to himself.

But of course the universe had it out for him and his own demonic mischief came back to haunt him. An elderly lady sitting across from him reached out and touched his anxiously bouncing knee. "You alright dear?" She asked in a quiet voice. He blinked up at her, trying a little too hard to get her to come into focus. He swallowed thickly and tried to answer,

"Yeah." But it came out more like "Ynh..." since his jaw felt like if he opened it too much, something terrible would happen.

The woman smiled sadly. "Aw dearie, you're shaking like a leaf. Pale as a ghost too." She reached up, ignoring the way Crowley pulled away from her, and brushed her fingertips through his sweaty bangs. She looked pointedly down at where his arms were wrapped around his middle, and asked, "What's the matter?"

Crowley wanted to snarl at her. Transform into a snake and scare her away. He wanted her to leave him alone. But his brain was fogged with exhaustion and pain, and all he really wanted was to lie down in bed.

"Don't feel good," he gritted out, and she nodded sympathetically.

"My granddaughter has Celiac. I used to think you young folk were always healthy and that diseases and sickness only happened to us older folk, but she showed me that young people are perfectly capable of being ill." She patted his knee again. "I don't know what you have, but I'm sure there are plenty of people who love you who can help you."

Crowley snorted and immediately regretted it when he tasted something sour deep in his throat and his pulse skyrocketed and he could feel that something bad was indeed coming. "No one loves me," he grumbled, and brushed her off, striding away from her to get off the bus at the next stop. To his dismay, the woman stood up with him and followed him.

"Well that just won't do," she said with a pout. "I have a few hours, may I assist you?"

Panic swelled in Crowley as the sour taste grew, and he knew the 'bad thing' he was so afraid of was about to happen. When the door opened, he leaped out and immediately collapsed to his knees and vomited onto the side of the pavement. Every heave sent clenching pain through his side and up his back and he couldn't stop himself from groaning.

"Oh dear!" the woman exclaimed and rushed to Crowley's side. "Young man, we need to get you home!" She grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet.

Crowley stumbled after her. He tried to tell her his new apartment building's address, but even he couldn't understand himself, so he doubted she could. Surprisingly however, she led him right to the building—thankfully it was closer than Crowley thought it was—and helped him up to his flat. As soon as he was inside, he hurried to the bathroom to vomit again.

Somewhere in Crowley's mind, he was panicking. He genuinely felt like he was dying. Another part of him was just so exhausted and wanted to sleep forever. And yet another part was glad he wasn't alone. Demons were supposed to be solitary creatures, so Crowley would never admit that he liked the woman's company, but deep down he was grateful. He wondered that if Aziraphale was here, would he be helping too? But no, he couldn't bother Aziraphale. They were still getting over the holy water thing. Yes, Aziraphale ended up giving him some, but they were still on thin ice with each other and both had each decided that they would limit contact to an as-needed basis. And as it were, he didn't necessarily _need_ Aziraphale right now (although his company wouldn't be rejected); the woman was doing fine on her own. And Crowley was genuinely glad to have someone help him when he felt like he was dying.

She rubbed his back as he shakily finished throwing up, and continued her soothing touch even as he sunk closer to the ground. He was tempted to fall asleep right there on the floor. But she pulled him up again and gave him a cup to wash his mouth out with, and led him to his bed.

As soon as he laid down and stretched out, a sharp pain stole his breath.

Vision white and body shaking, Crowley made a low sound deep in his throat and curled onto his side as his arms came back to wrap around his stomach.

"–ere d... –urt?" Crowley's hearing was as though it were underwater. He blinked up at the woman and realized that his vision also was as though underwater. He squinted, trying to understand her. He felt his hand being firmly pulled away from his stomach, and involuntarily made a keening whine as the pain began to swell. He felt the woman's touch on his abdomen. It hurt, but then again, everything down there hurt, so it wasn't that big of a–

_"FUCK!"_

Crowley kicked out and broke free from her hold, pressing his hands tighter around his stomach and burying his face into his pillow as he curled into as small of a ball as possible. She had pressed on something in Crowley's lower right side that he could only describe as a button of pain. It was radiating outward from that centered point, pulsing in agony and making Crowley's eyes water as he couldn't decide if he wanted to throw up again or pass out.

In the end, he apparently passed out, because the next thing he knew, there were other strangers in his house, all talking above him and touching him.

His skin prickled and he gasped at every small movement as it sent waves of pain rolling through him. Eventually he found himself lying down in some kind of wailing car and the sound of fast, rhythmic beeping overtook his hearing.

Then all he knew was darkness and sounds. Voices, machines. The sterile smell of rubbing alcohol. People touching him.

 _Oh just let me die,_ he thought miserably. _Just let it end. Getting a new corporation would be better than any of this._

But unfortunately, his brain was no longer attached to his body, and he couldn't move a muscle. He was prone on his back, feeling something prick his inner arm as someone tugged on his shirt. He tried to protest, to tell them to leave him alone to die, but within seconds of the prick on his arm, he suddenly lost sense of everything.

* * *

"–aking up?"

"Possibly."

"Come on Crowley, it's time to wake up."

That voice. That soft, angelic voice.

Crowley let his eyes peek open just the slightest bit. He was greeted with the most joyous expression on Aziraphale's face. "Oh Crowley!" He gasped, throwing his arms around Crowley's shoulders and hugging him tightly.

He tensed, expecting pain at the touch, but was surprised when there wasn't any pain. Not even an echo of the agony he expected. He felt fine.

Blinking, Crowley looked down and threw the blanket aside. He was wearing a pale mint gown and there was a tube in his arm attached to a machine. There were other nodes and things stuck to him, but Crowley ignored them. He yanked up the gown and looked down at his stomach.

It was taped up with gauze, and Crowley slowly realized he was in a hospital. Memories came back to him. The pain, the bus ride, the old w–

He sat up quickly and looked around, but the only other person besides Aziraphale was a young nurse who was checking Crowley's vitals on the machines. "Well hello there Mr. Anthony," he said kindly. "How are you feeling?"

Crowley looked down at the gauze once more and slowly lowered his gown and settled back into the pillows. "Alright," he said cautiously. "What...happened?"

"Just a case of appendicitis," the nurse explained. "A fairly easy surgery, but your appendix had burst, which made it a tad more complicated. You were touch and go for a while, and we weren't sure if you were going to make it. Looks like your guardian angel was looking out for you though!"

Crowley's jaw dropped and he shot a look at Aziraphale, who smiled sheepishly and looked down. The nurse continued, "You'll need to stay here a few more days to monitor your condition, Mr. Anthony. You're a very lucky man!" He smiled at him before heading out.

Immediately, Crowley turned to Aziraphale. "What did you do?" He asked suspiciously. "And what happened to the old lady?"

"I'm...not sure which old lady you're referring to," Aziraphale tilted his head just a bit in his confusion, and smiled wanly. "But I was finishing up some business at my bookshop when I felt an intense urge to come look for you. Something told me you needed immediate help. When I came to your flat, let me tell you, since it's a new building and everything, I admit I did get lost at first, but when I finally found you, you had paramedics all over you."

Aziraphale's face grew haunted. "You were pale and shaking and making these awful sounds..." He took a deep breath. "I just hope I never see you like that again. I was so scared, Crowley. I thought someone from Hell was trying to destroy you. And the noises. You sounded like you were about to..." Aziraphale choked and looked down at his wringing hands. "I didn't know what to do. So I let the humans try to help you in their human way. And when they said you had something wrong with an organ, that it had burst and you may not make it, I knew that was something I could fix. So I gave you a miracle to pull through safely."

Crowley looked away as he processed. "I didn't call for you; I didn't send a distress call. I was ready to just get a new corporation, no need to drag you into it all."

Hurt flashed over Aziraphale's face for the briefest second. "Yes, well." He sniffed and looked away. "I'm glad whoever called me to come to you did so." His face softened and he reached out to take Crowley's hand. "And I'm also glad you're alright and didn't need to get a new corporation."

Crowley squeezed his hand. "Me too, angel. Me too." And even quieter and more genuinely, "Thank you."

From above, the old woman smiled down at them and pulled away to let her reunited children rest.


End file.
